The Broken Children
by Kirai-sama
Summary: I give up. Mello broke under the pressure and ran to Matt. Near followed, hiding his own issues. Matt now has to mend two broken teens without him breaking too. Kinda dark: selfmutilation, suicide, mental issues, language,smoking, vauge blasphemy
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

Author's Note: Parts of this story are going to be very AU, although most of the basic plot will remain the same. I feel that I am making the characters _very_ different from how they are portrayed in the original series. Matt will periodically refer to Mello as Mihael when feeling particularly sentimental or concerned. Also the ages are as follows:

Matt: 19, 5"8', birthday in October

Mello: 18, 5"6', birthday in December

Near: 17, 5"1', birthday in March

Constructive criticism is preferred over a general "good job" and flames will be used to heat my house since its winter and I get cold easy.

"Speech"

_Thought_

It was snowing, and it was freezing.

_Perfect._

Mello tilted his face up to the flat gray sky and closed his eyes. Snowflakes landed and melted, spotting his closed eyes with cold. There was already more than a foot of snow on the ground, and the tiny park was deserted. The teen let out the breath he'd been holding – a puff of fog ripped away by the wind – and allowed himself to topple backwards. The snow creaked as he flung out his arms. He really shouldn't be out here – he was still sick after all, and he might even die – but really, that was the point.

_Freezing…is just like going to sleep,_ he decided. _Just…sleeping. Slipping away unnoticed…_His vision started to go black.

The last thing he heard, before he lost consciousness, was the gentle crunch of snow underfoot.

When he woke, he was warm.

He slowly turned his head. Matt sat next to the bed. Mello smiled weakly at him. "Still alive, huh?"

Matt was silent for a moment. "…yeah." Silence echoed between them for another moment. "Why do you do it, Mello? What is so bad that you keep trying to end it all?" He didn't even sound angry, only resigned. Mello guiltily thought that the four attempts he'd made on his life this year alone probably had something to do with that.

"Ah, but that's just it, isn't it? Ending. I want it to end." Mello turned to face the older teen more fully. He **wanted** to explain. "Did you know that when you're dying, nothing hurts? Even drowning, there's just an ache here," he touched his heart, "and here." The hand moved to touch his temple. "Nothing hurts, dying. Only living hurts."

Matt brushed blond locks out of the other's eyes. "But **what** makes living hurt so much, Mihael? What makes you want to leave me alone again?"

Mello shifted to stare at the ceiling. Matt waited quietly for an answer. "All I ever wanted was his approval," Mello waited finally. The redhead beside him didn't have to ask who 'he' was. There had only ever been one person Mello talked about like that. "Hell, I would have taken his hatred," Mello continued, "at least it would have been acknowledgement. He didn't even look at me when I told him that…" He trailed off, lost in thought. All his regret came back to that white-haired, silent figure. "I've given up, Matt. It's not worth it anymore. It just hurts **too God-damned much**."

Matt blinked at the raw grief and agony in the blonde's voice. He knew that the younger teen wouldn't cry; the redhead often doubted Mello even remembered how to release the emotion. _Sometimes I hate Wammy's for what it's done to us,_ Matt thought bitterly as he reached out to smooth the golden hair spilling over the pillow. "Okay," he murmured as Mello slipped off to sleep. Matt stood and gently pressed a kiss on the sleeping boy's forehead. "I wish you wouldn't though," he whispered before slipping out.

The phone rang as the redhead closed the door. Sighing, he crossed the hall and answered it. "Hello?"

An unfamiliar voice replied. "Hello? Is Mello there?"

A cold pit seemed to have replaced his stomach. Mello would have given an alias to anyone except one of his former 'associates.' "I'm sorry, but there's no one here by that name. You must have the wrong number." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.

Trembling, Matt slid down the wall, staring at the door into Mello's room. _Oh, my little Mihael, who's looking for you, and for God's sake, __**why?**_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

"Speech"

_Thought_

_**-Alter ego speech-** _

* * *

Near frowned at the phone as he listened to the dial tone. Slowly he hung up. That had been…unexpected. Just like Mello leaving in the first place.

It was troubling that whoever had answered had hung up so abruptly. He needed Mello. The investigation was falling apart, and had been since that day.

FLASHBACK

Mello stood in the doorway, cloaked in the shadows cast by Near's computers. "Near?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Near, look at me. Please." Near neither turned around nor looked up from the files he was looking through. "Fine. I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving. I won't interfere with you or your investigations. You never have to see or speak to me again. In fact, I would prefer it that way. I. Give. Up."

Near froze. Mello simply could not be serious. He was just… being Mello. "Melodramatic as always1. I didn't really expect anything else from you."

The teen standing behind him sighed. "Fine. Believe whatever you like. Have it your way. I meant what I said. I give up, and nothing is changing that." There was a brief moment of silence, punctured by a second, deeper sigh. "Goodbye, Near." The door closed softly.

Near sat there in shock, one hand still poised over the mouse. Mello wasn't really leaving. Was he? By the time Near had recovered from the strange paralysis of illogical bewilderment, Mello was long gone.

END FLASHBACK

It had taken a year and a half to track Mello down after that. When the blonde wanted to disappear, he did a damn good job. His years in the mafia probably had something to do with that. But Near had finally tracked him down.

_I'm almost positive that Mello is there. Except that there is absolutely no way to confirm it._ Near glared at the phone as though it had personally wronged him. Frustrated, he finally gave it up as a bad cause and sighed, twirling his silver hair around a finger. _So. Stalemate._ He thought back to the day Mello had left; the blonde's voice had been flat, emotionless, resigned. The only word that came to mind to describe him was 'broken.'

_Well,_ Near decided, _we need him. The world needs him. He doesn't have the luxury of being broken. I need to mend him, and if he won't cooperate with me from afar, then I'll just have to go where I can't be ignored. _

* * *

Matt sighed, elbow-deep in hot, soapy water. It had been more than a week since that first, troubling phone call. For several days afterward, there had been a daily phone call, asking for Mello. Each day, Matt had hung up after informing the caller that there was no one called Mello there, and that they must have the wrong number. Then, three days ago, the calls had stopped. _Maybe they gave up?_ Matt offered his skeptical side.

His skeptical side started laughing at him.

Matt sighed and began viciously scrubbing a plate. He agreed with his skeptical side – this person didn't seem inclined to give up easily – but that didn't stop him from hoping. _Wait. Knife. Missing. And Mello's…_Mello's sleeping, his brain supplied. Still…

Before he could pursue his niggling unease, the doorbell rang. The redhead sighed, decided that it might be important, and went to answer the door. He reached it just as the bell rang again. The teen jerked the door open and the first thing he saw was… white.

A teen that looked to be several years younger than he stepped back to meet Matt's eyes. Silver-white hair fell in front of gray eyes and a pale hand absently brushed them away. _I'm not really tall for my age,_ Matt thought in shock, _but it looks like he's a foot shorter than me, and I **slouch.**_ To Matt's eyes, used to Mello's blacks and his own subdued colors, the kid blazed in his white. "Near…" The name slipped out before he could stop it.

The pale teen blinked. "Matt?" The programmer nodded dumbly. Near took a deep breath. "Wow. Um, hi. Is Mello here? I'd like to talk to him, if I can."

Matt was suddenly very angry. "And what **right**," he spat, "do you think you have to talk to him!? You practically killed him once. Why should I believe you won't do it again?!"

The genius inhaled sharply. "Is he all right?"

Matt's anger drained away just as abruptly. "No." Tiredly, he turned away. "Come in. I'll explain. At least, I'll explain as much as I can."

* * *

Mello sat on the bed, staring at his arms. More specifically, his scars. Two lines curved over each wrist, one a thin white memory, the other still angry and red. Hundreds of older scars crosshatched his arms unevenly. His hand barely shook as he picked up the gleaming knife and set it against his arm. This was familiar territory for him. 

_Matt's getting careless,_ he thought detachedly. _Once upon a time, he didn't even leave me alone with butter knives. _

_Maybe he doesn't know,_ whispered his better half. The side that had so wanted Near's acknowledgement and approval. _Maybe he thought things were getting better._

Ruthlessly, Mello crushed that part of him, at the same time slicing downward. It was a shallow cut, and bled sluggishly when he brought away the knife. _Pain is like blood, _he reminded himself._ Let it flow out of the wound. _He laughed softly and bitterly. _Let the mortal shell mirror the scarred and broken soul._ He slid off the bed until he was kneeling.

_Please._ He didn't know to whom or what he was praying. He assumed it was God. _Please. Make it stop hurting. Or end it all. Or something. But please. Make me strong enough to stop me from killing myself one breath, one cut at a time._

Sighing, he slumped. It was hardly his first desperate prayer, nor, he assumed, would it be his last. It didn't really matter – the fragmented and pleading wishes and prayers always went unheard and un-granted – but it gave him comfort. Just like the rosaries.

As he choked back a sob, Mello groped for the knife and desperately slashed his flesh again. _Blood carries emotion,_ he thought as he watched his heart kill him one beat at time._ Let go, let everything flow away._ Finally, when he felt numb and lightheaded, the teen lurched to his feet and staggered into the bathroom. _Only a little more,_ he promised himself. For a moment, Mello was lost in the swirling collage made by the water and blood swirling and mixing.

_You only have to live at little longer._

* * *

Near stared at the older boy in shock. Matt stifled a sigh and got up to finish the dishes. The red-head had given the younger a distinctly edited version of events. He'd left out **why** Mello was suicidal, only mentioning that the blonde was, and had been sure not to mention precisely how often Mello had been taken to the E.R. _Really,_ Matt muttered to himself,_ we've been there often enough that the nurses practically recognize us on sight. And I have almost all of Mihael's information memorized. _

FLASHBACK

"I could steal your identity, Mello," Matt teased, waving the blonde's file before him. "And I would have you to thank for it. If you didn't have to go to the hospital so often, it would never have been possible."

"Now why on Earth would you want **my** identity?" Mello replied, hitting his friend in the face with a pillow. "All you'd get would be both the CIA and mafia after you." He paused to consider something. "And a warehouse full of chocolate," he added.

Matt stared at the blonde in shock. "Why do you have a **warehouse** full of chocolate?"

The younger teen grinned. "I used to have two," he offered. "But I ate the contents of the other one."

END FLASHBACK

The teen finished drying the dishes, grinning. He knew that Near was still watching him, but he didn't care. His hands froze abruptly. _Knife. Mello._ His smile died and he groaned inwardly. _Not again._

* * *

Mello glanced up at the knock on his door. He'd been patiently wrapping his injured arm, but abandoned the task in favor of unlocking his door. Matt would probably either pick the lock or break the door if Mello didn't.

The blond flicked back the lock and called "It's open," as he returned to the bed. Mello kept his head down, hiding behind a thin veil of hair, as he continued wrapping his arm. He didn't want to see the disappointment that was surely flickering across Matt's face.

Gentle hands took the bandages from him. The teen looked up, startled, to see Matt kneeling in front of him. The red-head's eyes were fixed on the bandages he was wrapping around his friend's injury. "You…aren't angry?" Mello asked hesitantly.

"No." It was a simple answer. "I mean, I wish you wouldn't, but…" Matt tied off the bandages and looked up, smiling sadly. "I know you won't. It's your release, your way of coping. I just wish you'd let me help you sometimes."

"You **do** help me," Mello replied earnestly, "all the time. I wouldn't have made it, survived this long without you."

The elder made a noncommittal noise. "Maybe." He pulled Mello into a quick hug before drawing him to his feet. "Come on. We have a guest." As Mello was gently dragged from the room, he looked back the knife was gone from its place on the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

"Speech"

Thought 

_**-Alter ego speech-**_

Author's Note: Okay, I went back and edited the time frame on Ch. 2. Mello has been gone for a year and a half since he left the investigation. Just a quick FYI that becomes kinda important later

* * *

Near sat in the armchair that Matt had shown him to and thought. Mello…Mello **couldn't't** be suicidal. Could he? Mello was **strong,** stronger than anyone Near knew.

_**-But something broke him -**_ hissed an angry, cynical little voice within him, **-**_**and maybe you broke him too. But when have you ever cared? —**_ The voice seemed to be mimicking Matt's tone. The pale teen nearly flinched at the inner diatribe. It had enough truth to hurt. **-**_**Selfish. Arrogant. Callous.**_** -** The voice flung the words at him.

A noise, almost a whimper, made him look up. Mello and Matt stood in the door. The blond, despite Matt's presence, looked scared and ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. Near stood. Mello turned, already trying to escape. Matt grabbed Mello's bicep and the teen started to lash out wildly. "Hey, hey, hey HEY!" Matt yelled, capturing the blond's wrist. He struggled for a moment longer before going limp. "Now stop that. He came to see **you**, and you are at **least** remaining in the room." The red-head's voice softened. "Okay?" Mello hesitated, and then nodded.

Both teens sat on the couch across from Near. Mello kept his head down, hiding his face. He began nervously rubbing his arm. Matt noticed and frowned, capturing the blond's hand once again. Satisfied that the fidgeting had stopped, Matt murmured something in Mello's ear. The younger man took a deep, shuddering breath and visibly forced himself to relax, nodding.

Near watched it all in a sort of horrified fascination. Mello was **so** different. Near could barely recognize the boy he had thought he'd known in this stranger. Abruptly, the pale teen frowned, focusing on Mello's left arm, the one he'd been rubbing earlier. Clean white cloth covered him from wrist to elbow.

In the same breath, Near realized he no longer had complete control over his body. The voice that had been berating him earlier seemed to be laughing. "What happened?" his mouth asked as his treacherous hand indicated the bandages._ What are you talking about!?!_ he screamed at his body. _You don't care what's wrong! We're only here because of the investigation!_

_**-But it's our fault-**_ whispered the inner voice that seemed to be in control of Near's body. It sounded creepily like the voice that had been criticizing him earlier. **-**_**It's our fault, and we have to make it right-**_

* * *

Mello's head snapped up. _"What happened?" There is __**no way**__ this is Near. Near. Doesn't't. __**Care.**_ The mantra crushed the brief flicker of hope before it could grow. _Better to crush hope now rather than later. It always hurts more later._ Mello quickly controlled his shaky breathing._ He doesn't't care. He __**doesn't't. Care.**_

His emotions now firmly under control, he answered. "Life. Life happened, Near, and my way of coping." The paler teen looked troubled. Silence fell. "What are you doing here, Near?" Mello finally asked. "You never cared before. Why now?"

Near looked down at his hands. "I don't know," he said at last. "I just… I **needed** to come. I have…" Near took a deep breath and looked up. "…no logical explanation. But…" He looked back down. "I couldn't't have stayed away if I wanted to."

* * *

Matt looked between the other two, nervous but slightly hopeful. This was going better than he'd expected, or even hoped. They weren't fighting **or** ignoring each other. They were awkward and uneasy in the present company, yes, but fighting? No. 

Sternly telling himself not to get too hopeful, Matt slipped into his tiny kitchen. Maybe snacks would get them to relax. While not a world-class chef, Matt's food would always be at least 'decent.' Humming quietly, he started to cook. _Now as long as nothing interrupts…_

Almost on cue, the unmistakable sound of Mello practically yelling split the air. _Yep, right on time. Its times like these I wish I hadn't quit smoking._ Juggling trays of sushi and other food, the owner of the house went to check on the younger teens, in the interest of preventing property damage.

Mello was standing stiffly, fists clenched by his sides. "You have no right to interfere!" he yelled at Near as Matt entered.

"Well, you clearly need another keeper. Matt isn't keeping you restrained enough if those bandages are any indication," Near shot back. His voice was icy.

Mello colored slightly, and his anger shifted into the cold viciousness he'd learned in the mafia. "You didn't stop me when I walked out of your life," he hissed. "Don't you **dare** try to walk back into mine."

Near flinched minutely, much to Mello's delight. "And what gives you the right…"

"**Enough!**" Matt yelled. Both teens fell silent and turned to look at him. Matt set his trays on the table and glared at them both for a moment before shifting his gaze to the blond. "Mello. **That** was unfair. Sit." His tone left no room for argument. That was an order, and Mello knew it. Mello sat. Satisfied, Matt turned to the other teenager. "Near." The silver-haired boy hung his head at Matt's tone. "I am Mello's **friend,** not his keeper. And while I do not always agree with his choices, the decision is ultimately his. He is an **adult**, as are you." He glared at both of them again. "And I would **recommend**," he said coldly, "that both of you start **acting** like the adults you are rather than insolent children."

Matt took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes as he spoke. "I am going to go work now. I **expect** you both to behave, and if that, for whatever reason, is impossible, separate. And if you break **anything,** you are going to replace it." He opened his eyes and swept them both with a final, reproving gaze before walking out.

Once he was out of the room, he sagged against the wall. Matt tried to crush the exhaustion out of his eyes, rubbing with the heels of his hands. Those two were draining just to be around. What would he do if Near insisted on more meetings, or worse, living nearby? _I,_ Matt decided, _will deal with that later. _And with that thought, he vanished into his darkened room.

* * *

Author's Note: okay, so since I tend to get distracted by random plot bunnies, I will be updating whichever story gets the most reviews first. This means REVIEW or this story will be put on hiatus whilst I pursue my plot bunnies. Reviews give me my motivation to continue a story. Constructive criticism is appreciated. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

"Speech"

_Thought_

_**-- Alter ego speech --** _

Mello watched Near from across the room. Matt's lecture had taken them both by surprise. Neither had spoken a word since Matt had interrupted their argument. Sighing, the blonde pushed himself off of the couch that he had collapsed back onto with Matt's exit. He was hungry, and he wasn't going to let Near's presence deter him from Matt's excellent food. The teen grabbed a tray of sushi and sat down again, resolutely ignoring his unwelcome guest.

The silence grew and stretched between them uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. He refused to meet the other boy's eyes despite Near's attempts. "Matt was right. What I said… that was unfair." _Unfair but __**true, **_he added silently to himself. He really was getting better at apologizing. His time here, away from those who knew him, had been good for the blonde. _For the first time in my life, I feel normal. And I am happy._

* * *

Near fought another internal battle for control. He had wrested control back from his internal voice in time to start the argument. Except that he had to act like he cared about Mello's well-being throughout it. There was no **way** he was admitting he didn't have complete control over his body to the blonde. He had just become more confident that the voice's manipulation was gone when Mello apologized. All his control went straight out the window. -_My turn-_ whispered the voice. -_You won't hurt him again-_

"I'm sorry too," the voice said, speaking though Near. Inside, Near was screaming with frustration and, though he probably wouldn't admit it, fear. He had no control anymore. His life was spiraling out of his reach. He couldn't do anything.

_Who are you!? _he screamed at the voice. _**What**__ are you?_

The voice laughed, softly. _**-I guess we're going to find out, now aren't we? -** _His controller seemed content to sit in silence after that declaration. Near continued to batter himself against the other's mental walls. _–Really, -_ the voice said reprovingly, **_-all I'm doing is improving your relations with a highly intelligent boy who you __should__ respect. No need to damage your brain trying to understand that. And there's __really__ no need for you to try and take back control. I'll give it back when I'm good and ready, and I can outlast you in the waiting game. -_** The voice softened, almost speaking to itself. _**–I've been waiting a very long time for this opportunity.-**_

* * *

Sighing, Mello tucked a strand of blonde hair behind his ear. He was socially obligated to stay as the host, but… _Damn Matt anyway,_ he thought. The teen popped another piece of sushi into his mouth. _Mmmm, edible nourishment. I should probably get up and eat something else, but that takes __**effort.**_

The teens had been sitting in silence since the mutual apologies. Mello didn't know what was going on behind Near's eyes, and didn't really care. As long as they weren't actively fighting, and Near wasn't patronizing him, Mello was fine. He ate more sushi.

"I want to stay. Try to work things out," Near said abruptly. Mello nearly choked on his snack. He coughed and then swallowed. _Stay? Here? He can't… he just… can't._ The younger boy continued, oblivious. "The case is going nowhere. We **need** you. I'm willing to take as long as necessary to make this work." He looked up and met Mello's startled eyes. "I'm willing to try if you are," he said softly.

Near was completely serious. Mello could see it in his grey eyes.

* * *

_**-There, -**_ the voice said, slightly exasperated. **_–I gave your actual reason for coming. He __might__ actually start to trust you now, which is what __I__ want. So cooperate, and I'll give you back control for a while.-_**

Near seized control of his body again. _**–Now, play nice-**_ the voice mocked, _-**or I won't let you play with the other children at all. -**_ The mocking tone vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. ­**_–I'm serious. You __will__ behave. -_** The threat hung unspoken.

The white-haired child swallowed. _Yes, sir._

* * *

Matt sat in darkness, happily clicking away on his keyboard. He hadn't heard any screams or crashes yet, and that meant that the other two boys were probably ignoring each other. If anyone was dying, they were doing Matt the courtesy of suffering quietly. 

The redhead sighed and leaned back in his chair. Really, he probably **was** being too hard on them, especially Near, but he just wanted to keep them safe. Whether that meant lecturing and separating them, or shooting anyone who attacked them. Matt shifted again, leaning his elbows against his desk while resting his chin on his laced hands, and tried to consider the situation objectively.

Fact: Near had hurt Mihael, badly, in the past. Fact: Mihael was still emotionally unstable from that injury. Fact: Counseling hadn't really been helping Mihael deal with that. Fact: Near obviously cared enough to argue about Mihael's wellbeing. Conclusion: It might help Mihael if Near stayed. Fact: Mihael would probably have a conniption fit when he heard Matt's opinion.

Matt swore, viciously, in four languages, and allowed his head to hit the desk. He was doomed. _Might as well die quickly._ With the air of a man headed for the executioner's block, Matt stood and headed for the door.

The tension in the living room was almost palpable.

Matt leaned against the doorframe and stared at the two teens in mild amazement and slight shock. They were both still alive and uninjured. That alone was an accomplishment. Shaking his head, Matt forced his wandering attention back to Mello. The blonde was sitting on the couch, starting avidly at a tray of sushi on his lap. He looked like someone had repeatedly beaten him over the head with a board and he was just now recovering. Near, on the other hand, looked as though he was really regretting something he'd said. Matt concluded that he'd been the one wielding the figurative board Mello'd been whacked with.

He sighed internally and decided to break the silence. "Well, this looks awkward," Matt drawled from his place by the door. "Just don't tell me you've confessed your undying love for each other or something. 'Cause that would inspire me to 1) laugh my ass off and 2) run like hell to prevent being sent to an early grave." The techie snickered inwardly at the horrified looks gracing the features of the two teens.

Mello recovered his ability to speak first. "Nooooo," he practically wailed. "No! That's just--! I mean--!" Matt was amused to notice that the blonde still seemed unable to form a complete, coherent sentence. "Just… no!"

"So, what happened?" Matt asked as he entered the room. As enjoyable as teasing them would be, it would be cruel. Plus, he **really** wanted to know what Near had said. The sooner he could start damage control, the better.

Since Mello was still spluttering denial, Near answered. "I… I want to stay, and… and try to work things out with Mello… and, and…" He trailed off uncertainly. The teen still appeared to be in shock about his own decision.

Matt sat down. Hard. "You," he said, pointing to Near, "want to stay here, and try to make friends with Mello?" The white-haired boy swallowed nervously and nodded. Matt covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, hell," Matt muttered, "oh, **hell.**" It was his own damn fault, really. He'd wanted this, and Murphy's Law had come into effect and given it to him.

Now what the hell was he supposed to **do** with it?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

"Speech"

Thought

_**-Alter ego speech-**_

Mello collapsed onto his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It had taken almost three hours of screaming, cursing, and breaking things, but he was now resigned to the fact that Near would be staying. _Near… is staying…_ He felt something inside of him shatter at the thought. Pressure started building within him, like a dam about to burst.

He was breaking again, and this time, there wouldn't be enough left for Matt to put him back together.

Without really thinking about it, _--I can't afford to think right now— _Mello sat up and headed through the door. He must have blanked out; the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of a drawer in the kitchen. **The** drawer, the one that held all the knives in the house. The blonde watched in fascination as his hand opened the drawer –_shouldn't—_ and slowly drew out a knife. It was a paring knife this time, sharp and tiny. He turned and leaned against the counter, staring at it. Awkwardly, he transferred the knife into his left hand and set it against the bared flesh of his arm. Ah, the joys of being ambidextrous. He should stop _–it's going to hurt Matt, too—_but he couldn't. The pressure had built too high, and it was driving him to destruction.

The cut was made and it was dripping red, flowing faster and faster. _Stop!—_his hand moved again and again, slicing through the thin layers of skin to the lovely veins filled with his crimson life. Flowing away…_ Stopstopstopstop STOP IT!!_ The knife clattered to the floor. It sounded painfully loud in the abrupt silence of his mind.

Then the tears came. Hiccupping sobs tore from his throat as he stared wide-eyed at his mutilated arm. The hiccups interrupted his screaming thoughts. _Can't­_ –hiccup – _can'tshouldn'twouldn'tcouldn't WON'T! _–hiccup—_stop... couldn't __**stop**__…_ His breath came in short gasps as he tried to maintain the tears. The torn redness of his arm blurred before his eyes. Slowly, he slid down the counter to rest on the floor. His hand jerked toward the knife again and he grabbed it, cradling it to his chest as he curled into a tighter ball.

…_broken … dying… why can't I just forget?_

_Why can't I just give up?_

FLASHBACK

He was thirteen again. New to the mafia, he'd just made his first kill. He'd been scared and alone, and he'd been so very, very young.

There was so much blood, splattered all over him. The guy's own heartbeat had killed him, pumping his life out with every beat. Splattering it all over Mello as he'd watched in shock. Painting momentary pictures in the air with that sticky red paint that flowed through everyone's veins. Every drop had splashed into a tiny piece of abstract art when it fell.

It had been horrifying and disgusting and beautiful. Oh yes, it had been beautiful.

That had been the first time he'd taken a knife to his flesh. He'd done it needing a release to the horror and pain and loathing that filled him, and he'd done it filled with a craving to see that dark/bright blood splatter into portraits of terrible perfection.

He'd done it see life.

END FLASHBACK

Blood was still beautiful. And now, as then, there was only one thing left to do. He would clean up the blood, and he would go to sleep. And he would sleep praying that he wouldn't wake up.

* * *

The guest room was small but elegant. Near sighed as he began unpacking. The voice had been silent since the confession and apology earlier. The white-haired teen pulled out a little mirror from his bag and slumped into the overstuffed chair.

Things had been going so well. The voice had been silent for years, and now this. It had taken over his body. Near couldn't allow that again. He'd have to… compromise with it.

_Who are you? What are you?_ He asked the voice silently. It hurt, almost, to try to talk to it now that he wasn't furious.

-_I am you. I am Raen -_ came the reply.

_Okay,_ Near thought, _but who is Raen?_

Raen chuckled softly. **_–Who am I? I'm __you_**_**, Near. I'm everything that you are, and everything that you could be. I am you as you should be. You as you would be without your stupid rivalry, without closing yourself off. I'm just… Raen. I suppose you could call me your opposite, but I'm more like your reflection–** _

Near bit his lip. _Why are you here?_ That was the biggest question tugging at his mind. Why was this **thing** that usurped his mind and body there?

Near felt Raen use his body to sigh. _**–I suppose you could call me your reaction to stress. A reaction to your attempt to turn yourself into a machine, cold and emotionless. That's why I'm here; that sort of thing isn't healthy and I'm your mind's effort to stop it -**_ Again, Raen sighed through Near's body.

_So what if I don't let you have any control?_ Near challenged. _I've taken control back from you before. You are __**nothing.**_

Laughter rang through Near's mind. **_–Nearling, I __let__ you have control back. I know everything about you. If I wanted to, I could destroy you without saying a word. I could turn you mind against you-_** Raen mocked. Near shivered at the easy threat._** –But I won't. I won't let you destroy Mello again, but I won't destroy your mind and personality. That would be giving you an easy way out. You're going to have to face what I know, Nate River.-**_

Near covered his ears in a futile attempt to block Raen's voice. _STOP IT! _he screamed at his tormentor. _STOP it, __**PLEASE!**_

There was a sudden silence in his mind. _**–Okay-** _Raen whispered finally. **_–__But you'll never be rid of me. Not until you accept everything. To destroy me, you must become me-_** Near felt a phantom kiss on his forehead. _**–Goodnight, Near. Maybe things will be better in the morning-**_

Near waited until he felt Raen's presence fade. Then he let himself cry silently. Sitting in front of a mirror in a strange house surrounded by people who probably hated him, he knew, for the first time, why Mello hurt himself.

* * *

A/N Okay, that was short and dark. I APOLOGIZE FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE!! bows in apology Now! I have decided that I can take this fic in one of two directions: a) I keep it as friendship or b) I turn it into a romance. Either way, it'll be pretty dark. This is where you people bothering to read this come in. Please let me know whether what you'd like me to do. Also, if you want me to turn it into a romance, let me know what pairing you'd like. This questionaire-thingy will be open until the end of June, or until, by some miricle, I get 100 replies, whichever comes first. Please REVIEW TO LET ME KNOW!!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. No copy write infringement is intended. Please don't sue: I have next to nothing.

"Speech"

Thought

_**-Alter ego speech-**_

* * *

Days bled into weeks. Near, still heavily under Raen's influence, began to reach out to Mello, trying to connect to something. Mello met his attempts with stony indifference and occasional anger. That anger was what Near began to search for. To provoke. It was the most emotion Mello ever showed to him anymore.

"Why is he doing this?" Near asked his reflection angrily. "Why? He knows that I'm** trying** to fix things. Why isn't he cooperating?"

_**-He doesn't trust you –** _Raen answered matter-of-factly. **–_It's rather obvious, now that I actually think about it. You __hurt__him, badly –_** Raen's voice inside his head became softer, more hesitant** – _and now he doesn't trust your apparent change of heart. I probably wouldn't either –_**

Near glared at his reflection, the closest he could get to actually glaring at Raen. The irony of the situation didn't escape him. When they were children living at Wammy's, it was always Near who provoked Mello with his indifference. Now that Near was seeking Mello's help, their roles were reversed; Mello was practically driving Near up the walls with his disregard.

* * *

Matt faced the subdued blonde warily. Despite Mello's change in personality after leaving both Near and his old life, this new silent, emotionless-ness worried his friend. Finally the red-head broke the uneasy tension stretched between them. "Why won't you respond to him?"

Mello looked up. He'd been tracing old scars and new ones on his arms when Matt spoke. "I don't want to." It was the evasive answer, the easy answer, and he cringed inwardly. Since when did he take the easy way out? That answer was surprisingly easy: since Near walked back into his life. Actually, he'd been taking the easy way out since a little before that, when he chose to walk away from the Kira case.

Matt sighed. He really needed to remember that with this new Mello, he had to phase his questions differently. Pin him down and force the issues. "Why don't you want to?"

The blonde bit his lip and looked back down. "I'm scared," he whispered. He stood suddenly, and, with a murmured apology to Matt, he fled to his room. Mello leaned against the locked door, his breath coming in shaky gasps.

It wasn't that he was scared of any physical pain Near could wreak. He inflicted worse on his body on an almost daily basis. But the emotional pain Near could deliver was so much more devastating.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry this is so short! However, iIve kind of hit writer's block on this story. Anyway, most of the reviews seem to be leaning towards a romance, specifically MelloxNear. So that is the general direction this story will be heading, but slowly. If you can think of a reason why that pairing WOULD'T work, please contact me.


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